A date with grace

A date with grace

It's seems that friends and family have held my new daughter more than I have these past two weeks! We've been so blessed with such a robust community around us. This morning, however, she was all mine. It was the first of many daddy-daughter dates. Sophia laid her head on my chest while I patted her back. Minutes turned into hours of rest for both of us--her sleeping and me watching. Every stage of life has the opportunity for greater grace. I often say that the Father has fathered me through being a father. I've seen the imprint of compassion in my sweet six year old, a genuine care for others and love for uninterrupted quality time. Yes, this turns my heart toward the Father. Our son brings a new dimension-the joy of rambunctious laughter mixed with the undeterred heart of a warrior. Yes, this too turns my heart to the Father.

Yet, this morning the Spirit reminded me of some simple things while holding my sweet Sophia.

Everything in her life right now revolves around dependency. She must be fed. She must be burped, changed, positioned to sleep well, and protected from the aforementioned rambunctious warrior. She, too, must be protected from herself as her fingernails are like talons when she thrashes through the night. Yes, hers is a life of dependency.

Still, more overwhelming to me while listening to her rapid breathing, observing her wrinkled expressions, and smelling that sweet aroma of a newborn... More amazing to me was her repeated dreams. She was dreaming of being fed. Her lips and mouth repeatedly made the motion, allowing me to know that even while sleeping she was thinking of being satisfied by her mother's milk.

I had a few hours to think through the ramifications of these two things--dependency and satisfaction. The Spirit took my mind to the Word of God, which is one of his primary roles in the believer. He turned my heart to glory in Jesus.

As a child of God, babe in Christ all the way to seasoned saint, we should never get over this dependency upon His grace. Oh how easily I'm blinded to my practical self-sufficiency. 2 Timothy 2:1 and Ephesians 6:10 were whispered over my daughter as I held her this morning. Paul's prayers in Ephesians and in Colossians 1 also rolled through my mind. I am dependent upon grace. It was the means of my birth and the means of each following breath.

Sin and despair, like the sea waves cold, Threaten the soul with infinite loss; Grace that is greater, yes, grace untold, Points to the refuge, the mighty cross.

When children of God are born, they must be given the milk of the word of God (1 Peter 2:2-3). With regeneration comes a longing, an insatiable desire to feed on the milk of the Word. Sophia eats every two hours. When she isn't eating, she's dreaming of eating again. The milk that she receives nourishes her, grows her, and sustains her. Her doctor says, "She love har momma's milk" (he's from Poland). She's grown one and a half inches and has packed on a pound in a weeks time. The milk does the work. The word of God does the work. Yet, in many circles we are afraid to give the babe in Christ the very thing for which they yearn, the very thing that will nourish, grow, and sustain.

Oh that we would not only recognize the grace of God in all of life, but in his grace long for the pure milk of the word.